


Rise and Ruin

by starsandroses



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: But it's close enough, Curses, DID SOMEONE SAY SLEEPING BEAUTY AU, Death, F/F, Fantasy AU, I did, M/M, Magic AU, Magical Violence, Rape, Roman is a prince, Roman sanders is a disney princess, cursing, deciet is kinda the villain, fantasy worlds, i finally get the disney princess roman we all deserve, i mean yeah he's the villain but he's not Evil, it is glossed over but it's still there and still important, it makes sense I promise, its actually not at a sleeping beauty au, logan and patton are the poor friends that got dragged in, magic systems, this is my campaign okay?, virgil is a warlock, who managed to get himself into A Mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:00:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20498276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandroses/pseuds/starsandroses
Summary: Once upon a time, there was a prince cursed to an endless sleep-Wait, no, that’s not the story.Once upon a time, there was prince desperate for love, a sorcerer desperate for revenge, a medic and a scholar desperate to protect their friend, and a warlock entangled in their mess who might be the only one who can save them.





	1. prolouge

Cecilie could not remember the exact events of her childhood, only the small details. She could remember the taste of the cookies the chef had sneaked used to sneak to her before dinner, wrapped in her tiny hands. She could recall the sunlight peeking through the trees as her sister taught her how to read. She could remember the water that soiled the ends of her dresses when she chased after her brother. She could remember the soft silk of pale sheets that covered her body when her mother tucked her into bed.

  
She could also remember the red hand-prints that sometimes covered her mother's face. She could remember the harsh yelling and the soft apologizes coming from her parents room. She recalled the scent of what she would later learn was alcohol in her father’s breath.

  
Cecilie always admired her mother. Her mother was always smiling, always helpful, always so graceful and poised. The one thing that soiled her mother’s image was how easy she forgave, how easily she forgave the hits and the cuts and the slurs, how easily she forgave even though she spent the nights with streams of tears racing down her face.

  
Her mother taught her many things, from how to sew both effectively and ornamentally, to how to blend the powders on her face to enhance her features. But the most important lesson her mother taught Cecilie was that men always had power over her.

  
So who could blame the young girl for being afraid when she was married to a Lord she truly knew nothing about? Sure, he seemed kind and gentle, and he was attractive, but Cecilie had learned how appearances were simply lies, meant to cover up the hideousness of the truth.

  
Cecilie never told her husband about her fears. She never confided the man she was supposed to love, until one day he’d asked her one simple question, a question voiced with his fear and uncertainty. “Why, my dearest, do you always look at me like I am going to harm you?”

  
And Cecilie broke.

  
She had built up walls, too afraid to let them down, too afraid of baring the same scars as her mother. And it was one sentence, sixteen swords made tears pool from her eyes. Sixteen words, filled with so much love and care that it made Cecilie’s head spin. She’d melted into her husband’s arms and sobbed. He had hesitated, before slowly wrapping his arms around her, in an embrace that felt much like Cecilie’s mothers. He whispered one thing as he comforted her, and the words stayed withCecilietothisday.to this day. “I would never hurt you.”

  
It was that night when Cecilie began to fall in love.

  
Her wonderful, amazingly kind husband never demanded anything of her. It took her two years to allow him to kiss her, and Nathaniel waited every day until she was ready. Nathaniel showered Cecilie with all the love he knew she deserved. Nathaniel took down her walls, one heavy brick at a time until Cecilie let down her guard.

  
Everything was well, and they began to love each other like husband and wife were meant to. Everyone around them praised the couple, seeing how much they loved another. Everything should have gone right for them. They tried for children, as both Cecilie and Nathaniel wanted them.

  
But Cecilie forgot that not all men were like her Nathaniel.

  
She had gone to a tavern, on a day when we husband was busy assisting the court. She visited a friend of hers, but when the other lady had to leave, Cecilie should have gone home. She was still young, though, and Nathaniel’s love had made her naive, so she stayed. A man sat down where her friend once sat and ordered a drink.

  
“I hope I’m not intruding.” The man’s voice sounded soft and kind, much her Nathaniel’s, so Cecilie remanded relaxed.

  
“It’s quite alright. I was just finishing my meal.”

  
“I just noticed you were quite the beautiful one and nothing this beautiful should have to sit alone.”

  
Cecilie smiled briefly at the compliment, before replying “I’m a married woman.”

  
“Oh, ma'am I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. Please, can I buy you a drink as an apology?”

  
Cecilie should have noticed the eagerness in the man’s eyes, the pure lust, but the noblewoman missed the obvious cues. “You don’t have to.”

  
The man smiled, much wider than was necessary. “Oh, but I insist.”

  
So, Cecilie allowed him to buy her a drink, and let her eye’s wander around the tavern. She didn’t notice how the man had brought a vial from his coat, didn’t notice the silvery liquid being slipped into her drink.

  
“Here you are.” The man handed Cecilie the drink, and she accepted it without an ounce of caution. The two conserved while Cecilie finished her drink, becoming increasingly more sluggish as she drank.

  
“I must be going, I’m becoming very tired.” Cecile stood to excuse herself, standing a little wobbly.

  
“Oh my dear, let me walk you to the door.”

Cecilie’s mind, slightly muddled, ignored her fight or flight instincts screaming at her. She took the man’s hand, and let her lead her outside.

  
“I can mak-” The man’s grip on Cecilie tightened. “Hey!”

  
Cecilie made eye-contact with the man. His eyes, which had previously been a calming shade of blue, were now glowing a harsh orange. A sorcerer. Cecilie’s mind was fuddled, but she tried to think. A sorcerer, his hands on her arms, his eyes glowing and she could obviously see something dark in his eyes now-

  
She knew what was going to happen to her before the man pressed his lips to hers, she knew before he raked his hands across her bare skin.  
But she was powerless to stop him.

  
Afterward, she ran home and threw herself into her bath, attempting to wash away the invisible hand-prints covering her body, she scrubbed herself clean leaving her skin as red as her eyes were. Tears poured down her face and she threw the dress she’d been wearing into the fireplace.  
She should have told her husband so he could find the sorcerer. Magic was illegal in the kingdom of Lytheia and the sorcerer would have been hung for both his crimes.

  
But Cecilie was scared. Would Nathaniel love her anymore? Would he still see the woman he loved, or a naive child who let herself get taken advantage of? Would she become a copy of her mother, with bruises and tears on her face from the man who claimed he loved her?

  
The fear overwhelmed her, so she kept her mouth shut. She tried to act herself but knew her husband noticed how she flinched at his simplest touches, how she avoided anything brightly orange, and her utmost refusal to go to the tavern that used to be her favorite.

  
But Nathaniel trusted Cecilie. He thought, if something had happened to her, she would have told him.

  
Cecilie’s happiness was hard to find, but one day it was given to her: in the form of the medic telling her she was with a child. Cecilie’s world lit up, dimly, but it still glowed. She was going to raise a child with the man she loved the most.  
Months passed, and the couple found familiarity. Cecilie was more allowing to Nathaniel’s touch, though she avoided other men’s at all costs. Husband and wife planned for their baby, and they were ready for the child.

  
Then, the child was born- a healthy boy with Cecilie’s midnight locks. As soon as the infant was wrapped in Cecilie’s arms, she knew- she knew she’d die for this boy. She’d rage war, and burn cities just to keep this child safe and happy. And when Nathaniel held the child, she saw the love radiating off the man. Everything was beautiful and peaceful, just as they deserved it to be.  
But everything changed when the infant opened his eyes.

  
His eyes were not the smooth, honey-colored eyes of Nathaniel. His eyes were not the stormy gray of Cecilie’s. The baby’s eyes were the color of the night sky when it blended with the last rays of the sun- a bright, beautiful violet.

  
Cecilie’s heart died in her chest.

  
This boy was not Nathaniel’s. No, this child was the child of the man who’d pushed Cecilie against a cold brick wall and taken too many things from her. The child was born of lust and greed and innocence and naivety, and Cecilie should have hated the child, but all she could feel was an intense love. Cecilie would still rage wars and burn cities for her newborn. She would love this child so fiercely he would never know the pain that had conceived him.

  
Nathaniel was looking at her, not with anger in his eyes, but confusion, and hurt. Just as it had only taken a sentence from the man to make her cry before, the simple look brought forth all the tears Cecilie had hidden away. The story came out and Nathaniel had stood their, shocked. Cecilie held her child to her breast, protecting it. This was the moment, wasn’t it? When Nathaniel would finally leave bruises on her body?

  
Nathaniel had cried instead.

  
Cecilie had sat there, shocked herself as her husband sobbed. Nathaniel’s arms wrapped around her, and he cried into her shoulder, whispering apologies. “I’m so sorry dearest..I’m so sorry..” His voice was shaky and then Cecilie started crying too. The couple sat like this, the child wrapped in his mother’s arms, and wife wrapped in her husbands, for what seemed like hours, though in truth it was only minutes. Then Nathaniel spoke.

  
“I’ll love him as I love you, Cecilie, dearest. I will treat him as if he was my own because, in my heart, he is.” Cecilie only cried harder.

  
They settled into silence for a few moments, until the baby started to cry. Cecilie whispered to her baby, trying to soothe him. After she looked into his stunning purple eyes, fear crawled up her chest again.

  
“Nathaniel! He has magic... his eyes give him away… they’ll kill him..” Cecilie’s heart broke as the realization struck her. Her husband took in a sharp breath, his eyes hardening like amber. Nathaniel began to pace, whispering thoughts under his breath. Cecilie let him think, her panic growing. She would not let anyone take her child from her. She’d rather die.

  
“We’re close to Areece. We need to run. You’ll have to go first and go first. You take a horse and cross the border seeking asylum. I’ll gather more supplies and excuse us from the court and follow you.”

  
“What if they catch you?”  
  
“It’s a risk I’ll willing to take for you, dearest.”  
So they did. Cecilie gathered her baby and the most basic of necessities for the two, and Nathaniel readied her horse. Her husband stood next to her as she saddled her horse. Nathaniel handed her the child, and she held him close with her free arm. The Lord looked at his wife, his honey eyes soft with love. He took his cloak, one made of heavy black material with the house of Serein’s crossed lightning bolt crest above the heart, and wrapped it around his wife.

  
“Godspeed, my dearest.” He whispered to her, leaving a chaste kiss on her cheek. Cecilie smiled down at him, her tears visible on her face. Then, she kicked the horse and rode off.

  
She wished that she’d looked at her husband more, that she’d memorized his features more, that she’d reminded Nathaniel how much she loved him.

  
Because that was the last time she’d ever see her first love.

  
It would be almost two decades later when she’d learn of Nathaniel’s fate, and all those years later, Cecilie would cry for him.

  
But in those moments, Cecilie's concerns were only on getting her newborn son to safety. She succeeded, she crossed the border from Lytheia to Areece in a few day’s time. She stayed in a small town near the border, and waited for her husband. A week passed. Then another. Nathaniel never showed. Cecilie’s money was getting low and she needed a way to support her child.

  
A way showed up at the door of the inn she was staying in, in the form a woman with fiery red hair and shining silver eyes. A witch. Cecilie had slammed the door on her face.

  
“Hey! Wait, Miss, I want to help you!”

  
Cecilie held her baby to her chest. “Why would you want to help me?”

  
“You’re an alone young woman with a child. Why wouldn’t I want to help?” The witch had a soft voice, but there was a stubbornness in it.

  
“You have nothing to gain from helping me.”

  
“Um, no, that’s why it’s called helping. Besides, your child has such a strong magical aura, I can feel it from across the village. Someone with not as kind intentions as me is going to show up at your door and they aren’t going to take no as an answer.”

  
Cecilie thought about it. She had spent her life surrounded by a court filled with liars and fools, and after the last time she’d let her guard down, Cecilie had become good at judging people’s intentions. This witch, she seemed to actually have pure intentions. Cecilie was also alone in a foreign country. She could use the help. Nathaniel would understand.

  
Cecilie sighed and opened the door. The silver-eyed witch was still there, and those silver eyes glinted with happiness as Cecilie looked at her. “You promise you are not going to take advantage of me?”

  
The witch nodded vigorously. “I swear on the moon and stars.”

  
Cecilie let her in.

  
The witch noticed the child still in Cecilie’s arms. “Awe, he’s so cute! What’s his name?”

  
Cecilie flushed in embarrassment. She had been so frantic about getting them to safety and keeping them alive, she had forgotten to name the child. What kind of mother was she? Cecilie looked into her child’s violet eyes and remembered a name Nathaniel had brought up. She had pushed the name away at the time, claiming it was too eccentric. Now, she decided the name fit perfectly.

  
“His name is Virgil.”

  
The witch let out a squeal. “That’s a pretty name! You’re going to grow up to be just as pretty as your name and your mama aren’t you?” She cooed at Virgil, who looked up at the witch with his stunning eyes. “Oh, speaking of names, I’m Priya!”

  
Cecilie gave her a soft smile. “My name is Cecilie Serein.”

  
“Isn’t that a Lytheian last name?”

  
Cecilie flinched. “Ah, yes. We’re from Lytheia.” The rest of the story was left unsaid, but Priya seemed to put the pieces together easily.

  
“Okay then! I live a few day’s journey south, near the ocean. If we leave tomorrow, we should get there at the same time my lilies will be in full bloom!”

  
Cecilie was startled. “Wait… you’re inviting us to come with you?”

  
“Yes! My home is so lonely, it’ll be nice to live with others?”

  
“You’re inviting me, a stranger with a newborn, to live with you?”

  
“Can you cook?”

  
Cecilie was startled by the random question. “Ah, yes I can.”

  
“Then, yes! I’m inviting you to live with me.”  
There was something about the lively witch had made Cecilie want to know her. Maybe it was the warmth radiating off her, maybe it was how easily she’d decided to help a random woman. Cecilie, a woman who trusted no one, trusted Priya.

  
So she agreed to go with her.

  
It was quite possibly the best decision of her life.  
Priya lived in a small town by the ocean. The witch’s cottage was close to the forest so she could grow her garden. Everyone in the village loved the witch. Children ran up to her and asked her to do magic tricks for them, mothers asked her for herbs to help with heachaches, and men thanked her for helping them deal with stray curses. The village opened its arms for Cecilie and Virgil, too. The local seamstress allowed Cecilie to work with her without a second thought, and other mothers watched Virgil when Cecilie or Priya was busy.

  
They grew close, Cecilie and Priya. Cecilie thought of Priya as an amazing friend and woman. Then, her viewpoint shifted dramatically.

  
Virgil was about ten years old, and Priya was standing outside with him. Cecilie had been making cookies- shortbread, both Priya and her son’s favorite. Just as Cecilie had laid the treats in the stone oven, she’d looked over her shoulder and noticed the two. Priya was whispering something to the young warlock, who was nodding at her. Cecilie watched as the witch stepped back and as Virgil closed his eyes. Nothing happened for a moment. Then, violet light swirled from Virgil’s finger ips, dancing in the air around him. Priya let out a squeal of delight, and Virgil opened his eyes and smiled so brightly at his magic, it melted Cecilie’s heart. Then, Priya hugged Virgil and the boy hugged back and Cecilie’s heart melted again and she knew, oh heavens above she knew.

  
Cecilie was in love with Priya.

  
It had taken her a while to process the thought, and even longer to accept it. She was still married to Nathaniel, but her husband hadn’t appeared. It had been a decade, and Cecilie feared the worst. But she had no proof, so shouldn’t she stay loyal to him? The answer should have been yes, but Cecilie knew what Nathaniel would tell her, “Do what makes you happy, dearest.”

  
Priya made Cecilie happy. She knew what she needed to do.

  
It took her about a year to gather her courage, and when she finally confessed, it had been on accident. Priya had gotten hurt because she’d caught a child who’d fallen from a barn. Cecilie was bandaging the witch, fussing over her when the phrase slipped out. “Goodness, if I didn’t love you so much I’d yell at you for getting hurt yet again..” The words had already been said when Cecilie comprehended the statement. Priya tensed under her fingertips.

  
“You… love me?” The witch’s voice was faint and uncertain, the first time Cecilie could recall her sounding so unsure. Cecilie let out a weak laugh.

  
“That… that was not how I was planning to tell you.”

  
Priya laughed, and Cecilie decided it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. “Aren’t you lucky I love you too?”

  
Cecilie decided that night she was a lucky woman. She had a lovely son who was as kind as he was talented. She had fallen in love with an amazing man, and she was lucky enough to be able to fall in love again with an amazing woman.

  
The next eight years of Cecilie’s life were the happiest. She married Priya, knowing in her heart Nathaniel would have wanted her to. She watched as Virgil grew into a beautiful young man, and a powerful warlock- even though he preferred to keep his powers hidden.

  
Virgil was eighteen when Priya asked him to deliver a package of herbs to a woman in the nearby kingdom of Craea. Virgil had agreed easily, and after he was off, Cecilie noticed the look of happiness on her wife’s face. “What is it, darling?”

  
“Virgil isn’t going to come home immediately.” Priya hummed. “He has a dangerous journey ahead, but he’ll come out victorious. Also,” Priya’s eyes gleamed. “he is going to find love.”


	2. the darkness can be such a lonely place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Virgil Serein does (1) good deed, and everything goes straight to shit

Virgil Serein had always loved the woods. The large trees with rays of sunlight peeking through, the smell of rain and dirt and the soft chirping of birds never failed to calm him. The woods were one of the only places Virgil felt safe practicing magic- no one there to watch him, and in turn no one he could accidentally hurt.

  
With that said, Virgil could not wait to be out of these woods.

  
He kicked his horse gently, moving the animal forward slowly. The horse wasn’t liking the woods either; which meant maybe it wasn’t Virgil’s constant paranoia making him uneasy. The horse’s hooves crunched against the branches littering the trail, which was odd on its own. Virgil had set out on a path that was common for travelers. The branches should have been cleared.

  
Then again, there should have been people on the path too, and there had been a severe lack of them.

  
Virgil pulled his cloak closer, securing himself in the warmth of it. The cloak smelt like home; like his mother’s shortbread cookies baking in the oven and his mum’s herbs drying over the cabinets. It smelled like comfort and love, and it reminded Virgil that he needed to get the job done so he could go home.

  
When his mum had asked him to deliver the herbs, he hadn’t thought much of it. They lived a day or two from the Craea border, and crossing the border had never been a challenge. Virgil would have had to deal with the guards controlling the border, which would have been a pain but he’d pass through with any difficulties.  
But there had been no guards at the border, nor any travelers. Virgil had waited for a bit to see if someone would arrive, but no one had. He had assumed it was a holiday- Craeans were known for their celebrations, so it wouldn’t have been surprising.

  
That had been a day ago, and no one else had appeared on the trail. It wasn’t just the lack of people had made Virgil uneasy. It was the wind that should have brought the smell of breaking bread of the village but instead was stale. It was how the plants grew unchecked on a path that should have been worn to the dirt. It was how the few animals Virgil had come into contact with had quickly scurried away the second they’d seen his shadow.

  
His horse was just as skittish as the other animals. He was riding his mother’s white mare, and the horse was known for her gentle nature. But now, Virgil was having a hard time keeping her contained, and she almost bucked him off earlier this morning.

  
“Just get the herbs to the lady and get home,” Virgil muttered to himself, hands tightening on the reins. “Then we can put this behind us and never think about it again.”

  
Soon, the dirt and branches became stone and Virgil found himself on the outskirts of the village. The sign posted outside the village told Virgil he was in the right place, but he read it again to double-check. His mum had described the village of Scato as lively and colorful, with people always in the streets and flowers in all the window boxes.  
This Scato was deserted. There were no people in the streets. The boxes hanging from dusty windows were filled with dead graying flowers and harsh weeds. The stone streets were cracked with more weeds sprouting through the cracks. Virgil slid down from his horse, the sound of his feet colliding with the ground echoed through the empty streets.

  
Something was wrong here. It was in the air, in the streets, in the town’s aura. Virgil should have gotten back on his horse and gotten as far away from this place as he possibly could.

  
Instead, Virgil tied the horse to a pole, hardly focusing as his fingers slipped around the reins. He had gotten his far, what was the point of turning around now. Grabbing his bag from where he’d attached it to the horse’s saddle, and stopped to run a hand through the horse’s mane. “Hey, hey girl stay calm for me. I’ll go check the house and see if the woman is here so she can get the herbs. Then we’ll leave and I’ll get you a huge apple when we get home, okay?”

  
Thankfully, the horse did not reply, and Virgil made his way down the streets. He seemed to be the only living thing on the streets. The houses were dark, no sounds or smells coming from open windows. Virgil’s heart was beating faster now, he could hear his heartbeat rushing through his ears. His grip on his bag tightened.

  
His echoing footsteps played against the medley of his heartbeat, his eyes scanning for anything, for another sign of life. He reached a house with the number his mum had told him and knocked. No answer. He knocked again, his heartbeat getting even faster. “Excuse me, this is Virgil Serein? My mum- Priya- she sent me to deliver the herbs you ordered?”

  
Still no response. Virgil bit his lip, a little harder than he meant too. He twisted his head around to look into the window of the house, his earring hitting against his cheek. The jewelry was charmed, a simple protection spell and Virgil prayed it was active now. He couldn’t explain it, but his instincts were telling him that something was, in fact, wrong in this town. This point was proven further when a peek through the window showed miles of dust and a rat skittering against the floor.

  
Virgil stepped away from the door. He decided, that he should leave this town. His mum would understand if he came home without the money, and his mother would hug him close to her chest and tell him she was happy he was okay. He walked back to his horse, his decision already made-

  
Then, he heard the sound.

  
It was not human- it was very much the sound of an animal. A cat, perhaps. The sound was one of fear and anger all rolled into one. The noise should have scared Virgil off, but he had always had a liking for felines. His mother often joked he practically was one, after all.

  
So, Virgil followed the noise. He rummaged through his bag and pulled out the small dagger. He had received it from the towns blacksmith after he’d contained a fire- one of the few times he’d used magic in public- when he was fifteen. He’d never used it before, but he was already on edge. He wanted to be prepared for any outcome.  
The sound echoed through the streets again. Virgil’s footsteps quickened, and as he turned the corner, he found the source of the noise. A cat, as he suspected, was crouched in front of a bird. It didn’t seem to be attacking the bird- which Virgil identified as a falcon. It seemed to be protecting the falcon, actually. Virgil strained his neck and saw red seeping through the bird’s feathers. What had injured it?

  
Virgil got his answer.

  
The cat hissed again. Virgil followed it’s line of sight- and saw the monster. It wasn’t one he’d seen before, and his mum had taught him about various types of monsters. The monster in front of him seemed to be made completely of inky darkness; it almost didn’t seem like it was physical, but the blood on its claws changed Virgil’s mind on that. The monster’s eyes were just as red as the blood, and it growled at the cat, showing long, needle-thin teeth.

  
Virgil stared. He should have run, gone back to his horse and got out of the town. He definitely should not have thrown his dagger at the monster.

  
But that’s exactly what he found himself doing.

  
The small blade bounced off the monster- the blade didn’t even strike the monster. It clunked to the ground, the sound bouncing off the walls of the alleyway. Positive: The monster stopped focusing on the injured bird and the cat. Negative: The monster had all its attention focused on him.

  
The shadow-creature growled at him, before charging at him. Virgil threw his hands in front of himself and yelled, “Soapei!”

  
Violet light crackled from his fingertips, and Virgil felt the glamour on his eye’s fade away- the glamour was the hardest spell he’d even learned, and all other magic forced him to show his natural eyes that were the same shade as his magic. The magic from his fingers formed a crackling wall between him and the monster. The being crashed into the wall, unable to pass it. It let out an angry roar; the sound shock Virgil to his core, but he stood his ground. He had angered the creature- it was kill or be killed now. The monster backed up preparing to charge the wall away, and Virgil flicked his hand down. The wall vanished, and as the beast charged again, he called out, “Oncitui!”

  
More violet blasted from Virgil, blasting the creature as it came closer to him. The monster fell backward, letting out a wail of pain. Virgil didn’t even hesitate; his voice was strong as he yelled another spell. “Odnacte!”

  
Glowing chains sprung from the cracked stone at Virgil’s feet, and swirled around the monster, successfully trapping the beast. It let out a gut-wrenching scream as the ethereal chains dug into its shadowy flesh. The young warlock winced at the noise, before stepping towards his chained monster. It tried to snap at his feet, but the binding held firm. Virgil studied the monster, still attempting to figure out what it was. After a minute of watching the beast struggle, he decided it was some sort of daemon. Daemons are pains to deal with, but his mum had taught Virgil how to ward one-off.

  
Virgil was lost in thought, attempting to remember the spell he needed, when a sharp pain flared up his leg. He glanced down in time to see one of the daemon’s clawed hands reaching to attack his leg again. Virgil scrambled out of reach, his blood splattering to the stones below him. The warlock hissed in pain, the burning sensation muddling his brain. He needed to kill the monster before it hurt him more or hurt the two animals. Virgil lifted his hand at the monster and barked, “Obaloe!”

  
The blast that shot out from Virgil’s fingers was so strong, he stumbled backward, causing him to fall over. The daemon, however, suffered a far worse fate. The monster screamed in agony as the blast tore into pieces, into particles so small the beast’s reminds fluttered through the air and with the wind. Virgil could only stare. Defeating the daemon should not have been that easy. His mum had always told him he’d been born with an exceptionally strong magic, and through training, he’d been able to take advantage of his gift. However, even the most gifted warlocks and witches usually had some sort of a struggle when it came to daemons. Maybe he’d misclassified the monster- though he doubted that. His mum had taught him well.

  
Then, the pain in his leg stole back his attention. He looked down and saw the wound was still bleeding pretty heavily. Virgil placed his hand over the bleeding wound, wrinkling his nose and the feeling of the sticky liquid against his fingertips. “Sona.”

  
The softly spoken spell caused his fingers to light up dimly, but the spell still worked its magic. The violet light flew over the wound, stitching it closed. It still stung a bit, but at least he won't bleed out. Speaking of injuries, however...  
Virgil turned, and the falcon and the cat were still there. The falcon’s wing was still injured, and the cat was watching him with blue eyes that seemed far too intelligent for a cat. Virgil stepped towards the two animals, his hands held up in a way that he hoped conveyed that he meant no harm  
Surprisingly, the cat allowed Virgil to approach the falcon. The violet-eyed boy knelt down next to the falcon, looking into its silvery-gray eyes, which just like the cat’s, looked too intelligent for an animal. Virgil spoke, unsure of the bird could understand him, but deciding to say the words anyway. “It’s alright, I’m not going to harm you. I’m just going to fix your wing with a bit of magic, okay?”

  
Virgil swore the falcon nodded- maybe he had lost enough blood to make him hallucinate? Even if that was the case, Virgil took it as a sign of consent, and gently laid his hand on the wing of the birds and muttered the same spell he’d used to heal his leg, “Sona.”

  
Violet traced up the wound, just as it had traced over Virgil’s. Soon enough, the wound was gone, and the bird was able to move its wing. Virgil let out a smile of content. This was the side of magic he adored- the healing, the amazing things magic could do for everyone. But magic was like a rope. In most situations, it was used to help and make life easier, but in the wrong hands could leave people clawing at their throats and begging for mercy.

  
Virgil started to walk away. He was ready to go home, ready to tell his mother and his mum about the crazy events that had occurred. He wanted to see his mum’s silver eyes glow with pride when she learned he used magic. He wanted to see his mother’s honest smile as she made shortbread cookies. But the universe had other plans.

  
“It’s you! It has to be you!”

  
Virgil jumped. The voice was soft and kind and held a strong energy to it. The warlock whipped his head around, looking for the speaker. There still was no one in sight, so who he said the words?

  
“Kiddo, down here.”

  
Virgil looked down and shook his head. He was going crazy, he had to be. Or maybe this was all a crazy fever dream that he needed to wake up from. Maybe he’d fallen off his mother’s mare and hit his head and was comatose. Or maybe the monster had been real and had managed to draw enough blood to make him hallucinating because there was no way the cat was speaking to him.

  
“Yes! Hello!”

  
Yup. Definity hallucinating.

  
“Patton, you are frightening the boy.” What, was the falcon talking now?

  
The cat looked behind it. “Sorry! But Logan, it’s gotta be him!”

  
The falcon seemed to roll its eyes.”Indeed, but if you make him uncomfortable, he will not be willing to help us.”

  
“Oh, I get it!” The cat looked back at Virgil with its impossibly human-like eyes. “Sorry to scare you kiddo!”

  
Virgil couldn’t take this. His body was drained from the sheer amount of magic he'd used in such a short amount of time- and after a long period of time of not using magic at all, too. His head was spinning, because, yes the animals were speaking to him, and even though magic did many amazing things, the only way to talk to animals was through a potion that Virgil hadn’t used. There was something happening here; something big, and something Virgil’s mind could not comprehend.

  
So, he closed his eyes and fainted.


	3. it's written in the stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil is told the story behind the silent kingdom, and has to make a choice. Why did he decide to deliver again?

“Is he going to arise soon?”

  
“I think so, I can feel his heartbeat quickening.”  
Virgil’s eyes fluttered open, peering out at the stormy sky above him. His back was cold against what he believed was stone, and God, his head hurt. It felt like someone had swung a hammer against his skull over and over and over again. A groan escaped his lips and he tried to sit up.

  
“Hey, hey, kiddo, I need you to lie back down for a second.” A soft voice muttered directly into his ear. “We managed to get you to drink one of the healing potions we found in your bag. Sorry, about that by the way, I kinda freaked out when you fainted and because I really can’t do anything else like this I panicked and searched in your bag-”

  
“Patton. Breathe.” Another voice commanded. The first speaker, whom Virgil assumed was named Patton, took in a few shallow breaths. Virgil felt a tingling against the back of his head- the potion was starting to work. A few moments later, the pain became manageable, and Virgil sat up.  
Then, he remembered why he had fainted. He turned his head, and sure enough, the falcon and the cat- which at a closer angle, Virgil could identify as a calico- were sitting next to him. And still, there were no other humans in sight, which meant-

  
“You talked.” Virgil couldn’t help the words that escaped his lips.

  
“Indeed we did.” The falcon muttered, his voice deeper than the voice that Virgil identified as Patton- which meant Patton was the cat.

  
“Sorry if we freaked you out.” Patton apologized. “My name is Patton, this Logan.” The cat gestured with his paw to the falcon.

  
Virgil's mind was spinning, but he managed to say, “My name is Virgil,” before his thoughts overwhelmed him. Though, this time his mind spun at a speed where he could still think. He was talking to animals, and Virgil’s magic didn’t include that natural talent. Nor did he have an enchantment that would have allowed him access to that magic. There was a third option, but it was both absurd and the only realistic idea he had.

  
“You’re cursed.” Now that he had thought about it, he could sense the magic surrounding the two. He could even see it if he tapped into his own magic- faint sigils surrounding the falcon and the cat, the markings glowing in a shade of yellow that reminded Virgil of the foxgloves in his mum’s garden- seemingly harmless, but surprisingly venomous.

  
“Yes, yes we are! Logan, I told you! He’s a warlock, he knows about curses and maybe he can save Roman and the kingdom-” Virgil shifted in his cloak, something in his gut going hard. Patton, who seemed to notice this, stopped midway through his sentence. “Goodness, sorry kiddo, I got carried away there.”

  
“It’s fine,” Virgil mumbled, his hand reaching for his earring, the cold metal against his hand grounding. He couldn’t help but suspect he had opened a can of worms that could possibly explain the strange silence of the town. “What happened?”

  
“Are you referring to the state of the village, or how Patton and I became cursed?” Logan asked.  
“Both, I guess? Something tells me they’re connected.”

  
The falcon seemed to nod- goodness, the insanity of this situation was starting to settle into Virgil’s brain. “That would be correct.”

  
Patton looked up at Virgil with eyes that clashed like the ocean they’d stolen their color from. There were sadness and grief and loss and happiness and relief and an indescribable amount of raw hope in Patton’s eyes. Hope in Virgil? “Well, kiddo, do you want to hear the tail of the Curse of Craea?”

  
As Logan let out a groan and muttered about the pun, Virgil did a double take. "The Curse of Craea- I didn’t even know Craea was cursed, no one’s ever mentioned it.”

  
“You haven't heard anything because he does not want outsiders intruding with his plans.” The way Logan said he, with such a strong amount of contempt, Virgil’s heart clenched.  
“He? Who's He?”

  
“I think we should start at the beginning," Patton said. "About six months ago, the Kingdom was celebrating the Queen's birthday with the usual celebrations- two days of festivities ending with a ball. Even though the ball was for the queen, everyone’s attention was on the Crown Prince. Within a year, Prince Roman would be ascending to the throne, and he still wasn’t married.”

  
“Because he is stubborn and believes in marriage for true love only,” Logan grumbled.

  
“You know why, Lo,” Patton said softly, meeting eyes with the falcon, before continuing the story. “With that knowledge, every noble in the kingdom was offering their children to court the prince. But he wasn’t interested- he knew that most of them only wanted the crown or the riches that came with the title. At the very best, they wanted the prince for his beauty.”

  
“Then about halfway through the night, the prince stepped onto the balcony, wanting some fresh air. He was greeted by another man already standing in the night. The two struck up a conversation, and the prince felt something in his chest grew warm. The flames grew even hotter when he realized the man didn’t realize he was the prince. Eventually, the prince invited the other man to dance, and they danced the night away. It was clear to see; the prince was in love.”  
  
“It was less love and more of an infatuation. The man was the first person to seem interested in Roman and not Prince Roman.” Logan said, his voice a bit less hard.

  
The feeling in Virgil’s gut twisted even tighter. “Something tells me this story doesn’t have a happy ending-“

  
“-your intuition serves you correct.”

  
Patton let out a sigh. “Roman’s two closest friends- the castle’s head scholar and the son of a lord who was serving as the medic’s assistant- they both knew something was off about the stranger. The head scholar had the high intelligence to see that something was wrong-”

  
“-and the lord’s son was an empath in all senses expect magical, and he could sense that the man had devious plans,” Logan stated. The words were the softest ones Virgil had heard come out of Logan’s mouth.

  
“The duo warned Roman of their fears, but he was starstruck. He pleaded with his friends to ‘Let him have this,’ and asked them to give the stranger a chance. He told them that their intuition could be wrong, even though the prince knew it had never been wrong before.” Patton sighed. “I think he knew even then it was wishful thinking.”

  
“They told the prince they would not interfere, but their concerns grew until they had no choice other to investigate.” Logan continued. “At first, the two found nothing wrong with the man's intentions. They thought that maybe the prince was right and that their intuition was wrong. Then, the Lord's son caught the man's eyes glowing yellow. The man had magic, but the color of the glow pointed towards sorcery.”

  
Virgil nodded. The eyes were the gateway to the soul, after all. People unconsciously revealed their true emotions and intentions through their eyes. Magic users could even be identified by their eye colors- vivid green, dramatic blues, and shades of violet showed that the user was aligned with light magic, and deep reds, dark oranges, and glimmering yellows disclosed darker magic.

Glamors covering eyes were the hardest spells to cast.

  
Patton picked up where Logan left off. “They couldn’t be certain, though- it could have been a trick of the light or something. After a few days of careful investigation, they caught the man talking to a shadowy figure, boasting on how he had the prince wrapped around his finger, and how he’d soon have the kingdom of Craea under his control. The two were about to flee and tell this to the prince, but the Lord’s son tripped.”

  
“The two were caught by the man, who was revealed to be a sorcerer at this point. The sorcerer’s hands began to glow the same yellow as his eyes. Who knows what he would have done to the duo if he had been given the opportunity, but, as fate had it, Roman stumbled onto the scene. He instantly threw himself in front of his friends and stared down the sorcerer with his eyes filling with tears. The sorcerer tried to placate him, but the heartbroken prince knew his friends had been right all along. With a heavy heart, he ordered the sorcerer to leave the kingdom, and to never return, as he was no longer welcome.”

  
Patton took a shaky breath, and Virgil noticed how downtrodden the Cursed looked, his blue eyes looking towards the ground, and ears flattened. If he had still been human, Virgil guessed he would have been crying. Logan picked upon his companion's sadness and continued telling the warlock the story.

  
“As soon as the words left the prince’s mouth, the warlock’s demeanor shifted. He stopped pleading and a malevolent light entered his eyes. He bent down on one knee, and pulled out a gold band with a yellow stone trapped in the metal, and ordered the prince to marry him. The prince repeated his early statement, and the sorcerer threated that he would curse the kingdom. The prince wrapped up with his heartache and anger, let out hysterical laughter, and told the sorcerer, ‘You wouldn’t dare’.”   
  
“ ‘You’d be surprised, what I’m willing to do’.” Patton mumbled. “That’s what the sorcerer said in reply. Roman denied him again. It wasn’t just about his broken heart. He knew that agreeing to the sorcerer would doom Craea. A wicked ruler leads to a wicked kingdom, and the prince knew accepting the proposal would give the sorcerer a direct route to power.”

  
“As soon as the prince denied him three times, the sorcerer stood, pocketing the ring. His eyes began to illuminate, and yellow smoke filled the room. The sorcerer's voice lilted through the fog. ‘The kingdom shall sleep on your decision-”

  
“-and you shall sleep with it until you agree to me.’ “ Logan interrupted. “Suddenly, the prince fell to the ground, eyes shut tight. His friends ran to his side, but the sorcerer had different plans. He directed his hands towards the duo and proclaimed that if the two hadn’t interfered, that the prince would be his, and the kingdom with him. He decided they deserved a different punishment.“

  
“ ‘Until the prince accepts my ring on his finger; until he accepts my hand in his, you shall be cursed to forms in which you cannot interfere’. “ Patton quoted. “The two passed out, and awoke outside in the forms of a cat and a falcon.”

  
“So the two of you are the prince’s friends,” Virgil said, his suspicions confirmed. “I’ll guess Patton is the medic in training and the lord’s son, and Logan is the head scholar?”

  
“You are correct,” Logan confirmed. “After awakening in these unfortunate forms, we discovered the entire kingdom had fallen into a cursed sleep. For the last six months, we have been roaming through the sleeping kingdom. Animals are unaffected, and neither are monsters. We have not had any life-threating issues until the daemon.”

  
“Then you swooped in and saved us, kiddo! You defeated that daemon really easily. My mentor’s husband is the captain of the royal guard, and he’s told stori/es about how it’s taken multiple men and multiple warlocks to take one down! You did it single-handedly! You’re magic is really strong, probably even stronger than the sorcerer’s.” Patton exclaimed, some of the light returning to his eyes.

  
“They have reverse aura colors as well.” Logan mused. He was right again- they’d said the sorcerer’s eyes glowed yellow when he used magic, and Virgil’s aura was violet. Reversing aura’s took the most damage against each other. Red against green, orange against blue, and yellow against violet.

  
“You have to be the one that can save the kingdom!” Patton announced, startling Virgil.

  
“Save you?” The young warlock repeated, his confusion a bitter taste on his tongue.

  
“Indeed. I usually do not believe in something as vague as this, but you seem to be our only option. You have the skill, it seems.”

  
“I’m not that skilled; I’m only eighteen.” Virgil protested.

  
Virgil guessed that if Logan could, the scholar would have been arching a brow. “I do not see how your age plays into account. I was twelve when I met with the head scholar and impressed her enough for her to take me on as an apprentice. Patton was eleven when he saved Roman from bleeding out after the prince had gotten hurt chasing after an imp. Age is only a mental barrier, disregarding it allows you to achieve what you desire.”

  
"I'm still not that skilled." Virgil defended.

  
"Falsehood. You heard Patton; taking down the Daemon was not an easy feat to accomplish by one's self. And you managed to slay the beast and without major injury as well. I do not like the idea of dragging you into our dilemma, but I do believe you might be our only hope."

  
"I could go get my Mum! She's a talented witch, she could help you!"

  
"Kiddo, I think you've got what it takes to help us. I'm also not a fan of bringing you into this mess, but I really think you can save us!" Patton walked over to Virgil, placing his paws on Virgil's knees. "Why do you think so lowly of yourself?"

  
"Why do you think so highly of me? You know nothing about me- you met me an hour ago!" Virgil countered, crossing his arms and glaring down at the cat.

  
"Well, you saved us when you could have just run away to keep yourself safe. And even after that, you stayed and healed Logan, which put you at risk because you used so much magic. You stayed and listened to our story, even when it became crazy and unbelievable. Plus, I just know it!" Patton's voice became soft. "My intuition has never been wrong..."

  
Virgil considered what the other had said. The words were heartwarming, that the cursed man could like him that easily. Though, Virgil had a suspicion that Patton could like anyone. The warlock turned to Logan. The falcon had his head tilted slightly, watching his friend interact with Virgil. A curiosity formed in Virgil's mind, and he blurted out, "What about you?"

  
Logan turned his turned to meet the warlock's eyes. "Pardon?"

  
"Do you think I could save Craea?"

  
"I believe it's possible. Patton made several valid points towards your character, and as I already mentioned, you have proved yourself as a talented warlock. I also agree with Patton's intuition.”

  
Virgil let out a shaky breath. He had to be dreaming, right? He pinched his arm and winced as subtle red blossomed under his fingers. Not dreaming. His heartbeat began to quicken, and he took in a sharp breath. He was in control here.

Not his fear.

  
His mind dropped back to a question he often visited when in doubt: What would his parents do? The answer came easy. They'd both help. If his other could cross a border with a baby while running for her life, and his mum could face dragons by herself, he could do this.

  
"All right. I'll help you. Let's save your kingdom."


	4. wring magic from the ordinary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil learns a little more about his companions

“Virgil? Virgil, wake up! You’re going to fall off your horse!”

  
The warlock’s eyes snapped open, his loose grip on his reins tightening Virgil pulled himself upwards, moving into a proper riding position. He looked down at the calico cat in his lap- they had learned pretty quickly that Patton couldn’t keep up with Virgil on horseback, so the Cursed was riding with him. Patton’s sky eyes were looking up at him with concern. “You doing all right, Kiddo?"

  
“I’m fine.” Virgil readjusted his foot in the stirrup. “Sorry for almost squishing you.”

  
Logan swooped down, gliding in the light breeze. “You seem rather fatigued. It would be acceptable if you need a break.”

  
“I’m fine,” Virgil repeated, thumping his leg against his horse, making her speed up slightly. He scanned his surroundings; the trio was deep into the Craean woods. The trees were tall with lush, dark green leaves. Sunlight could barely peek through the thick canopy. The only sound Virgil could hear was his horse breaking sticks under her hooves -the animals they’d encountered were just as skittish as they had been before, and luckily, they hadn’t had another encounter with a monster. Virgil didn’t think he had it in him to fight another magical being today.

  
Virgil didn’t even notice he was drifting off again until he felt something sharp dig into his shoulders. The violet-eyed boy jerked his head to the side, just in time to see Logan flap his wings and fly up and away from his perch on Virgil’s arm. Patton let out a sigh from his lap.

  
“I think you need a break. You look like you’re going to pass out any minute now!” Patton decided.

  
“We’ve only made a few hours of progress. I can keep going.” Virgil insisted, gripping the reins tighter, the leather digging into his skin.

  
“You could, but if you are weary, it will be unhealthy for you to continue on. I agree with Patton, perhaps a break would be for the best.”

  
“That’s two to one, Vee.” Virgil’s shoulders

sagged. Maybe he was tired, sure, but he could keep going! He wasn’t weak- “Taking a break doesn’t make you weak.”

  
Virgil eyed the cat perched on his lap with slight suspicion. Was Patton secretly a mind-reader? He had to be, as he had known Virgil for only hours but could already read the warlock like a book. Probably not though, as Logan had called Patton an ‘empath in all senses but magical’.

  
Speaking of Logan, the falcon had begun to circle above them, barely visible above the trees. “There’s a clearing on the left. It appears to be a decent spot to take a respite.”

  
Giving in, Virgil led his horse off the path, following Logan until they reached the clearing he’d seen. The horse trotted to a stop, and Virgil scooped Patton up into his arms before slipping off the horse. After setting the Cursed on the ground, Virgil tied his horse on a low hanging branch of a nearby tree with a tight knot. Then how tired he was hit him. If he hadn’t listened to his new companions, he probably would have passed out and fallen off the horse, injuring or even killing himself. If he was dead, he couldn't save this kingdom. If he was dead, he couldn't return home.

  
Virgil slid down the tree, settling down into the cool dark grass. Patton walked over and curled up next to him, and Logan perched above them both on the same branch that Virgil had tied the horse too. From the patch of sky the clearing offered, Virgil could see the sun beginning to set over the distant mountains. The warlock shut his eyes, but he couldn’t seem to drift off. Patton seemed to notice this.

  
“Can’t sleep yet?”

  
“I think I have too much on my mind,” Virgil admitted, reopening his eyes.

  
“What if we share stories? It could help relax your mind, and it’ll help us get to know each other!”

  
“It would make sense to do so.” Logan agreed. “If we are stuck together on his quest, having a knowledge of each other would be sensible. Of course, Patton and I know each other quite well already-”

  
“I’m one of two people who know he has an obsession with a specific jam.” Patton stage-whispered.

  
Virgil thought if Logan could, he’d be crossing his arms. “Madame Crofters’ jam is fantastic indeed, and I will not allow you to soil its name.”

  
“She’s even named a flavor after him, he buys so much of it. He cried when he learned about it.”

  
“Anyway!” Logan yelled. “We were discussing our pasts. Patton, would you like to go first?”

  
The grin never fading from Patton’s eyes, the Cursed cat nodded. “Okay, so, my mother’s family has been serving the Craean crown for a very long time. My father was a merchant who, through his prosperity, earned himself a place at the King’s council. That impressed my mother, who was both the Queen’s best friend and her personal advisor, but she didn’t let him into her heart easily. It took months of trying, but it was when my father showed up on her doorstep, covered in dirt but holding her favorite flowers that he’d picked from outside the capital, that she gave him a chance.”

  
“They ended up getting married only months later, correct?” Logan asked from his perch.

  
“Yup! Queen Selena told me that once my mother gave him the chance, she fell for him fast.”

  
“That’s pretty sweet,” Virgil admitted, his memory recalling how his mother and her husband had a similar relationship, but without the choice to marry. The soft feeling in his gut became a bit sour, but Virgil shook it off and returned his attention to Patton.

  
“Then, she became pregnant with me. Things were going perfectly, up until the day I was born. There were complications, and even though she was able to give birth to me, she passed away.”

  
Virgil winced. “I’m so sorry Patton.”

  
The Cursed seemed to shrug. “I never knew her, all I know is from my father and the Queen’s stories. But for my father, it was rough. For a while when I was young, he couldn’t see me without crying. I apparently have my mother’s exact eyes, and looking at me reminded him of her. Then, he met a knight who forced my father to get himself together. The knight stuck with my father, helped him cope, and she’s practically my aunt now.”

  
“I grew up in the castle, quickly befriending Prince Roman, who was born a year after me. He was as much of a ball of energy as I was. We got into lots of trouble when we were younger, mainly because Roman had big ideas and I never wanted to stop him because we had so much fun. I can’t remember how many times the prince and I got scolded by the queen for coming into the throne room covered in mud.”

  
Patton smiled at his memories. “Then, I was probably about ten at the time, I watched the castle’s medic heal a knight. I was enthralled. I wanted to be able to help people too. I began to follow the medic around, studying him as he worked. I think I tried to steal one of his journals too, but I was too young to truly understand it.”  
“It’s a good thing that you did. If you weren't so studious, the kingdom would have lost it’s only heir.” Logan comment.

  
Virgil arched an eyebrow. “You saved the prince’s life?”

  
“I mean, all I did was prevent him from bleeding out,” Patton replied.

  
“All you did was keep him from bleeding out?” Virgil echoed, a hint of amazement slipping into his voice.

  
“Yeppers! Roman was ten at the time, and I was eleven. We hadn’t been taught about the dangers of monsters yet, so the prince was easily tricked by an imp. The imp led him deep into the woods and attacked him. I had followed them, and when I saw the imp attack him, I panicked and began to throw stones at it. One of the rocks must have had iron in it because the imp fled and left him there. I ran over to Roman, who had a gash across his chest. I remembered watching the medic press cloth to a knight’s wound to stop her bleeding, so I wrapped the scarf I was wearing around the prince’s wound. I managed to clot the bleeding, and when the royal guards found us, they took us straight to the medic.”

  
“When I told him what I did, the medic was impressed. As soon as Roman recovered, he spoke with my father and asked if I could apprentice with him. My father agreed. I can remember the pride in his eyes, even now. He still boasts that his son is going to be the greatest healer in all of Craea. He’s over exaggerating, but I’d never tell him that.”

  
Logan shook his head. “Patton, you saved Roman’s and later on, countless other people’s lives. I do not see why you won’t accept your well-deserved praise.”

  
The cat seemed to smile. “I just want to help people.”

  
Virgil’s shoulders sagged slightly. “Well, Patton’s story is better than mine. Logan, did you save the prince too?”

  
“No-”

  
“-oh thank goodness, I’m not the only one-”

  
“-I did manage to become the head scholar’s apprentice with no formal schooling at age twelve.”

  
Virgil stared at the darkening sky. “You’d think the one with magic would be the one with the interesting past.”

  
“I bet your past is fascinating Kiddo! Do you want to tell us?” Patton asked.

  
“Oh, no, I want to hear how Logan became the head scholar’s apprentice first.”

  
“If that’s what you’d prefer. I was born in a village a few days journey outside the capital. My father possessed a bakery, which he inherited from his father before him. My mother was extremely frail and was constantly ill, but still managed to keep our home in order and managed her six children.”

  
“You have five siblings?” Virgil interrupted.

  
“Indeed. I am also the youngest. Even though my father's bakery was quite successful, we were constantly low on money. My parents could not afford traditional schooling for my siblings or me, but in exchange for doing his errands, the schoolmaster gave me lessons. He taught me the fundamentals, and from there, my obsession for knowledge grew. I borrowed any literature I could, wrote with my fingers in the dirt, and attempted to learn from my surroundings.”

  
“When I was twelve,” Logan continued. “The royal family’s head scholar visited my village. She was recovering a specific book from one of the elders of the village. After she was given the book, she stopped to eat at the tavern, and I overheard her discussing her findings on a certain herb. I cannot remember the exact plant, but I recall her stating that the plant was edible. I interrupted her conversation, informing her that the herb was poisonous. Instead of ignoring my statement as a child’s nonsense, she asked me to prove that the plant was non-edible. I led her to stream behind my house and showed her the glossy leaves of the plant. Glossy leaves are a sign of toxicity. Much like with Patton and the medic, I impressed her. She wanted to take me on as her apprentice. When she informed me that I would be able to send money back to my family, there was nothing else she had to say. I returned with her to the palace.”

  
The Cursed by Virgil’s feet let out a soft laugh. "And that’s when Roman and I inserted ourselves into your equation.”

  
“Yes. In the beginning, the prince and Patton irritated me to no end. They continually offered me their friendship, but I denied it, believing it would get in the way of my studies. There was also a part of me that assumed the younger nobles only wanted to mock me, for not being of noble birth. Then, the incident with the prince and the imp occurred, and I gained respect for Patton. Soon after, the prince himself sat in the library and debated the meanings of many classical writings with me. Both of them weaseled their way into my metaphorical heart, it seems I will never be getting rid of them now.”

  
“Nope! You’re stuck with us now. Well, when we get Roman back and fix everything, of course.” Patton replied.

  
“Do you blame him?” It really wasn’t Virgil’s fault, the blunt question had been burning at the end of his throat since they told him the story.

  
“Blame Roman?” Patton echoed. “I don’t. I wish he’d trusted our instincts, but love makes you do desperate things. Even love based on lies.”

  
“Patton is correct. Roman was blinded by what he thought was a real love for him. It clouded his judgment. Any blame I would have put on him vanished we he put himself in front of us when the sorcerer was about to strike.”

  
Patton shook his head, his eyes returning to Virgil. "No more of that dreary topic! Tell us about yourself kiddo!”

  
Virgil shifted, fingers pulling his cloak closer to himself. “My mother is the real hero of my story. We’re from Lytheia. When I was born, my mother had to flee. She had to leave everything behind, her home, her husband- everything. She probably should have just offered me to the court and saved herself the trouble.”

  
“Isn’t having magic a dominant trait? Wouldn’t your mother have known that you were going to have magic before your birth?” Logan asked, piercing eyes looking down at Virgil.

  
“My mother didn’t know. She had been taken advantage of by a stranger. She thought I was her and her husband’s child, not the child of that monster. She really should have left me.”

  
Patton laid his head on Virgil’s knee, looking up at the Warlock, with impossibly warm eyes. “Of course she’d keep you, you’re her son!”

  
Virgil let out a dry laugh. “That’s what she constantly tells me. ‘Blood doesn’t define you, you define yourself.` She says that all the time. So does my mum, especially when she was teaching me magic.”

  
The Warlock saw the question in his companions' eyes and answered. “My mother entered Areece and met my mum. My mum offered us a home, and my mother accepted. They raised me together and eventually fell in love. I came to Craea to deliver herbs on one of my mum’s customers. And now I’m here.”

  
Soft breathing breezed over Virgil’s leg. He looked down to see that the Cursed feline had fallen asleep. Virgil’s own mind was getting fuzzy, and a yawn escaped his lips.

  
“You can rest,” Logan said from his perch. Virgil didn’t need to be told twice, the second his head hit the grass, his eyes closing and his mind surrendering to sleep.

  
When he reopened his eyes, he wasn’t in the clearing anymore.


	5. once upon a dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Virgil meets the fourth piece of the puzzle

The grass had turned to stone.   
  
At least, that’s what it felt like. What had once been lush grass against his back was now something hard. Virgil opened his eyes and looked up into a dark sky covered in stars. He sat up, and his eyes widened. This wasn’t the clearing. There were no trees, no grass, no horse and no Logan and Patton. 

  
Instead, he was surrounded by stone walls. Getting to his feet, he realized it wasn’t just walls. He was in a castle’s courtyard. He had been lying on a cracked path, weeds pulling through the crevices in the gravel. The walls had seen their fair share of rain and wind, the stones weathered. The night was quiet, no sound of servants working into the night or guards patrolling the battlements. Virgil’s mother had taught him that a castle never slept, but this one was deep in slumber.   
  
It must have been a dream. Virgil was prone to strange dreams; his mum had once told him that odd dreaming was a rite of passage for warlocks and witches. But his dreaming had never been like this. He was used to flashes of visions that made no sense, to uncanny images that appeared in reality soon after he dreamt them. This was something else, something too real. 

  
Virgil took a step forward, and suddenly, yellow flashed across his vision. Yellow magic. When the light faded, Virgil was struck by a sudden realization.

  
The castle reeked of magic. Thick yellow magic the color of foxgloves practically covered the walls. It dripped from the towers that surrounded the bailey. It swamped the ground at Virgil’s feet, staining his boots in its color. It drifted through the air like the toxic fumes that drifted out of the swamps of Aceeca. Virgil scrambled backward, afraid to breathe in the yellow. He closed his eyes and covered his mouth, and through his fingers, he took in a long breath. When he opened his eyes, the mist at his feet had shifted into the violet of his own magic, before it all disappeared.

  
Disappeared was an odd way to put it, in hindsight. Disappear meant that the magic vanished completely. It was still there, but Virgil had blocked it from his vision. He was overwhelmed enough. 

  
Regaining what little composure he had, Virgil took a few more steps forward, studying the courtyard again. Hanging from one of the walls was a red banner that had faced the same hardships as the wall. There had once been an image on the banner, it but it had been lost to Mother Nature and her forces. As he continued to move forward, he winced as his footsteps echoed through the ward. More ruined flags hung over the stone. Eventually, Virgil made his way over to one of the towers that surrounded the courtyard. The door opened easily, the wood damp against Virgil’s hand. In the dim starlight, Virgil could see a staircase spiraling up into the darkness.   
  
“Lacuet.” 

  
As soon as the word left Virgil’s mouth, his hand grew warm. He lifted his right hand as a violet orb glowed to life, illuminating the dark. For a few brief seconds, the yellow magic clogged his vision again. Virgil looked down, focusing on his boots and settling his breathing. His own magic broke through the sea of yellow; his footsteps glowing purple against the other magic. 

  
Virgil looked up again, and his vision returned to normal. He began to climb the stairs, left hand clutching the stone wall to keep his balance and right hand holding his light. The stairs continued upwards and Virgil continued to climb. His footsteps echoed even louder in the tower than they had outside, and his cloak billowed out at his heels. His feet began to ache, but finally, he reached the top of the tower. Another door was pushed open, and then Virgil was standing on the ramparts.

  
A chill ran down Virgil’s spine, making him pull his cloak around him tighter. Even from his higher viewpoint, he could see no one in the castle. The stars twinkled above him and his orb glowed in his fingertips, still giving him light as he began to walk along the walls. There were other towers allow the walls, and one of them had to lead into the main castle, right?

  
Just as Virgil was about to cross over and see if he was right, footsteps behind him interrupted the silence. Virgil quickly squeezed the orb to extinguish his light and glanced down over the wall. It wasn’t that large of a drop- he probably could land it with healable injuries. Before he could leap, a voice stopped him.

  
“I can see you, you know that. You’ve already tormented me tonight, why have you returned?” The voice was cold and was spoken in an accent that Virgil had subconsciously noticed in Logan and Patton’s speech.

  
Keeping his voice steady, Virgil replied, “I don’t know who you are, or where I am.”

  
The voice snorted, getting louder and closer. “Turn around and face me, coward. Using a different voice won’t fool me this time.”

  
Unable to find any way to avoid it, Virgil slowly turned around. The figure stepped closer to him was holding a candle into the night, but the light wasn’t bright enough for Virgil to see the figure’s face yet. All he could see was the red cape trailing behind the figure. The warlock stood still, a spell on his lips in case he was attacked. Finally, the figure stepped close enough for the candlelight to illuminate their face, and Virgil’s eyes met theirs. 

  
The figure had beautiful eyes. Virgil could have focused on how their green hue reminded him of summer grass against a lakeside, or an emerald gleaming in the sunshine. He could have focused on the bits of gold swimming in the green like they were stars in the night sky above.

  
Instead, all he could notice was how sad they were. 

  
While Virgil was staring into the figure’s eyes, the other did the same. They spoke again, confusion littering their voice. “Your eyes aren’t yellow.”

  
“No,” Virgil said, sounding just as confused.

  
“You have purple eyes. He’s never been able to hide his eyes in the dreamscape.” The figure’s melancholy eyes were suddenly filled with the slightest bit of hope. “You aren’t the sorcerer.”

  
“No, no I’m not.” Virgil offered out his hand, trying to ignore it’s trembling. “I’m Virgil Serein.”  
Rather than take Virgil’s offered hand, the figure tackled him into a hug. 

  
Virgil nearly fell over but managed to balance both himself and the slightly taller figure.

Something wet trickled down into his neck. Oh. The other was crying. Awkwardly, Virgil wrapped his arms around the sobbing figure, not knowing exactly what to do. 

  
“Oh my God. I never thought- I thought I’d be alone forever.” The figure mumbled through their tears. “ It’s been- well, I don’t know how many months it’s been, but I’ve carved so many lines. It must have been a long time.”

  
Suddenly, the figure pulled away, teardrops still crawling down his cheeks. “Oh. That was rude of me. I haven’t introduced myself. I’m Roman Aurate.”

  
Virgil’s eyes widened,” You’re the prince. You’re the cursed prince. You’re the one Patton and Logan are friends with. You’re the one I’m coming to save.”

  
The prince grabbed Virgil’s arms, the tears dropping into the Warlock’s hands. “You’ve seen Logan and Patton? They’re okay? Wait, why aren’t they asleep like everyone else? Hell, why aren’t you asleep like everyone else?”

“I could ask you the same,” Virgil said. “When Logan and Patton told me what happened here, they told me you were affected by the curse too.”

  
“I am. It's complicated. Maybe we should sit down. I can explain the curse and the dreamworld and you can tell me who you are."

  
Virgil nodded. He needed any information he could get on the curse so he could break it, after all. The warlock slipped to the ground as a light breeze traveled over the castle walls. The breeze blew the prince's copper locks into his eyes as he sat down next Virgil. He set the candle down between them, the flame flickering in the wind.

  
"I can start," Roman said, staring at the fire for a few seconds, before looking in Virgil's eyes. After the warlock nodded, the prince sighed. "I am cursed. My body is asleep like everyone else in the kingdom."

  
"Your body?" Virgil echoed, staring at the prince. He reached over and touched Roman's arm. He felt solid. The prince looked down at their contact, and Virgil quickly retracted his hand. "But you're here right now."

  
"The dreamscape has strange rules. I still don't know them all."

  
"Dreamscape?"

  
"Yes. While my body is cursed, my mind is trapped in this dreamscape. Every night, the sorcerer enters and asks me for my hand. He already came tonight, which was why I was confused by your appearance. Which reminds me- how are you here?"

  
"I've got no idea. I fell asleep in a clearing in the woods and woke up down in the courtyard."

  
Roman's head tilted again. "Your accent- you aren't from Creaea, are you? That's why you weren't affected by the curse- because you're not from my kingdom."

  
"Right. I'm from Areece. My mum sent me to make a delivery and I found a sleeping village and your friends."

  
"Logan and Patton? You mentioned that you met them. But how? They are citizens of Creaea, so the curse would have affected them."

  
"They got special treatment," Virgil said. "Your Sorcerer was unhappy with their interference, so they got their own curse. They're trapped in animal forms until you accept the marriage proposal."

  
The prince's shoulders stiffened. He stared at the candle again, the dying flame revealing tears forming again in his eyes. "There's no winning here."

  
"Excuse me?"

  
Roman was silent for a few seconds. He wrapped his arms around himself before he continued speaking. "If I marry the sorcerer the curses get lifted. The people go free. My two closest friends, who deserve the entire world, go free. But if I marry the Sorcerer, it'll doom the kingdom. I don't know why he's after the throne. It can't be for any good reason. And I'll be unhappy. As selfish as that might be, I'd like to be happy. Even though this entire mess is my fault, and my happiness is worth the cost to fix it. But again, I don't know the Sorcerer's intentions."

  
"You've backed yourself into a hole." Virgil realized, understanding dawning upon him. "There's no good way out."

  
Roman nodded, eyes still on the candle. A large gust of wind blew in, running through the prince's hair and extinguishing the flame. The world went dark again, only illuminated by the stars and the first rays of dawn on the horizon. Roman sighed, reaching into his cloak for something to relight the candle.

  
"No need," Virgil blurted. The prince looked up at the warlock, confusion in his eyes. Virgil muttered a spell, one his mother had used in the winter when the cold was biting. "Colae."

  
Virgil extended a finger, and a small flame flared from the tip. Pressing his lit finger against the wick, Virgil watched the candle relight. When he looked back up, he noticed the prince staring at him. For a spilt second, yellow chains appeared around Roman's wrists and throat. Then, he spoke and the yellow vanished. "You have magic?"

  
"I have violet eyes." Virgil deadpanned. "This might surprise you, but only warlocks have violet eyes. It's not like that's common knowledge or anything. Just because the four-year-olds in my village know that fact, I can't expect a prince who was probably taught by the nation's best scholars to."

  
"In my defense," Roman said, raising his hands in over-the-top surrender. "I was processing the fact you weren't the Sorcerer. The fact that you weren't him stopped any other thoughts I was having. You're the first person, other than him, that I've seen in months."

  
Virgil let out a hum. "Well, if all goes to plan you won't be alone much longer."

  
'"What are you- wait. You're a warlock. You have magic. You can-"

  
Virgil pulled up his hands, interrupting the prince. "-I'm going to try and break the curse. The Sorcerer has yellow magic, based on what Logan and Patton have told me and the overwhelming yellow staining in this place."

  
Roman tilted his head. "Yellow staining?"

  
"It's a magic thing,"

  
"Ah."

  
"Anyway. since he's yellow and I'm violet, our magics contradict. The contradiction makes my spells more effective against his."

  
"And with this contraction, you'll be able to lift the curse and my people can be fear without me giving into the Sorcerer's proposal!"

  
Something dark and twisted formed in Virgil's gut. Saving the kingdom, saving Logan and Patton, saving Roman- it was practically an impossible task. Virgil wouldn't lie- he wanted to run. He wanted to be as far away from the curse as possible. How could he though? People were relying on him now. And not just the people of Craea. If Virgil could prove that not all magical beings were like the sorcerer, people would stop denying. If Virgil could prove that magic was good, he could prevent more newborns from being thrown into a river- a fate that had almost been his. He could prevent more families from having to run and hide. He could prevent the deaths of those who'd helped the magical.

  
What kind of coward would run from that?

  
Virgil looked over at the prince, whose eyes had been focused on the warlock the entire time. "I'm going to try my best to save your kingdom."

  
Roman's eyes brightened, the light almost drowning out the lingering sadness. For the second time that night, the prince crashed into Virgil. Virgil was more prepared this time and was able to catch Roman. Roman's hug felt warmer this time, and Virgil allowed himself to bask in the warm for a few seconds.

  
"Thank you, thank you, I'll never be able to repay- you're disappearing?"

  
Virgil looked where Roman was, and holy shit, his feet were disappearing. As the sun rose over the castle walls, Virgil's legs began to vanish. Virgil could feel his limbs, but he couldn't see them. He looked back at the prince. The sadness had returned to his eyes, as he realized he'd be alone again.

  
"I'm coming back," Virgil said, not knowing where the words were coming from. He was not one for empty promises, but this didn't feel like a lie. "I'm going to break the curse."

  
Virgil's torso was starting to fade now too. Roman gripped his hands as they vanished. "Promise?”

  
Virgil barely had enough time to nod his head before his entire body vanished. The last thing he saw was the hope in the prince's eyes as the sun rose behind him.

  
Then, Virgil was back in the clearing, back against the grass. There was something heavy against his chest, and when he looked up, he saw Patton laying there. When the Cursed noticed that Virgil as awake, he jumped up and shouted, "Oh you're awake! Logan! He's awake! You weren't awaking up and we-"

  
"-I knew he was going to awaken-" Logan interrupted from somewhere above Virgil's head.

  
"Fine, I was afraid you weren't going to wake up. What happened kiddo? Are you okay?"

  
Virgil started up, where the light of the rising sun filtered through the trees. "I met the prince." He said simply, not making eye contact with either Cursed. "I met Roman."


	6. within sorrow's tender embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five days have passed. Virgil has no idea if he'll see Roman again. Nor, it seems, does he know what he'll do when he's suddenly brought back to the dreamscape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god it's been years. but I'm back baby, and I don't plan on ignoring my chaptered fics for years again!
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Injuries, blood, self loathing

“Kiddo? Are you okay?”

Virgil looked down to see the calico cat had that situated himself in his lap. Patton was looking up at him with concern, swatting a paw in an attempt to wipe the blood off Virgil’s arm. The warlock winced- he had forgotten about the wound, but now that Patton reminded him it was there, the pain returned full force.

“I’m okay. The monster only landed that one hit on me. I’m fine.”

From above, Logan landed on a branch in the tree Virgil was leaning against. “You looked exhausted, Virgil.”

“I’m fine!” Virgil said, attempting to push Patton off his lap so he could stand. But the cat stubbornly stood his ground, pressing his paws into Virgil’s lap. 

“Logan’s right, Virge. You look like you’re going to pass out if you stand up. You told us about how magic drains your energy, you know since you didn’t really use it for years! I remembered that! So, how about we just rest here? It’s almost night time anyway!”

Virgil opened his mouth, but Logan beat him to it. “Besides, don’t you want to continue your attempts to get back into Roman’s dreamworld?”

“It hasn’t worked for the past four days, Logan, and heaven knows I’ve been trying. I don’t think I’m going to see him again until we, I don’t know, storm the castle or whatever our plan is.” Virgil said, allowing a sigh to escape his mouth as Patton curled up in his lap. It didn’t seem like Virgil would be getting up soon. He sighed again, leaning upwards to look at Logan. “Do you have any ideas about what that thing was?”

“The beast?” The scholar asked, and when Virgil nodded, he continued. “I’m not sure. It seemed reptilian, but it was too small to be a breed of dragon.”

“It looked familiar, from either one of your textbooks, or one of the stories Roman used to read to the children at the castle.” 

If Logan could have, he would have snapped his fingers in a eureka moment. “Amazing recall, Patton. I believe it was in one of Roman’s fairytales… it started with a B if I remember properly ...”

“A basilisk?” Virgil said, remembering a story his mum had told him about a showdown between one of her best friends and the beast. A twinge of homesickness bloomed in his gut with the memory- he could picture Priya waving around her arms, silver wisps of magic floating around her as she told the tale, and his mother leaning against the table, looking at her wide fondly.

Virgil was ripped from his memories when Patton made a small confused noise. “But in the stories, a basilisk could kill with a single glare! That thing looked at us multiple times!”

“Storytellers have a tendency to exaggerate for dramatic effort, and we both know Roman was as dramatic as a storyteller as any.”

“You’re probably right.” Patton nodded in agreement, before looking up at Virgil with his bright brown eyes. “That’s another monster you took out, Kiddo! You’re a great fighter!”

“It was mostly luck,” Virgil said, fingers fiddling with the clasp of his cloak. The basilisk had torn a new hole in the black material. He would need to patch it up when he could get the necessary supplies. He hadn’t brought his sewing kit with him; the one time he wasn’t prepared was when he needed it, damn it. 

“Luck isn’t why you won, Virgil. Your own talent is to blame. Can’t you see that?” Logan asked, something like weariness in his voice.

“I think I’m going to go to sleep.” Virgil decided, not looking up at the falcon, who would have easily seen that Virgil was avoiding the question. Patton let out a purr of agreement, situating himself into a more comfortable position in Virgil’s lap. The warlock snorted, pulling his cloak around himself and Patton just a bit tighter. 

“Goodnight Kiddo. Tell Roman hello for me, okay?”

Virgil snorted. “‘M not going to see hi, Pat. But, night. Night Logan.” 

The warlock curled up against the tree, careful not to move the cat in his lap. The pain in his arm had dulled, and only a few drops of blood seemed from the wound. He should probably heal it, just to calm Patton and Logan.

“Sona,” Virgil muttered, allowing his magic to heal his wound in the sloppiest way it could. Somehow even more exhausted, Virgil glanced up at the sky, watching the stars drift across the night, and he allowed them to sway him into slumber. 

When he opened his eyes, he still saw the stars. Was it still night; had he only slept for a few hours? Then, he noticed the lack of Patton in his lap and the cold wall against his back. 

Hell be damned. He was back in the dreamscape. 

The courtyard he’d appeared in last time looked the same- ruined walls and weeds. The all-consuming yellow smoke still covered the place. A wisp of the stuff wrapped around Virgil’s ankle, like a curious snake. The warlock flicked his hand and closed his eyes, letting the sorcerer’s magic fade out of his vision. The yellow vanished, leaving Virgil alone with his thoughts.

Why had it taken him five days to return? He had been trying every day since he left, focusing on the destroyed castle and it’s forlorn prince every night before he fell asleep. Priya had taught him five was the number of Balance. It symbolized the connection between the earth and the heavens. Maybe that connection was what allowed Virgil to cross over? Could he consider Roman’s dreamscape a part of the heavens, especially when it was created with malicious intent?

Suddenly, Virgil was driven from his thoughts by a pained yelp. It was faint, but it sent a shiver down Virgil’s spine and rose every goosebump on his body. That had to be Roman. Was the sorcerer here? Was he hurting Roman? Suddenly, it didn’t matter why Virgil had returned. All that mattered was seeing if Roman was okay- because how could he save the kingdom if he couldn’t even protect its prince from a fellow magic-user?

Before he could really think about it, Virgil took off towards the sound, a spell slipping out of his mouth to light his way. He stormed up the tower he’d climbed his first time in the dreamworld, and instead of wandering the ramparts, the warlock traveled deeper into the castle. His footsteps echoed against the wall, a staccato that matched his heartbeat. What if he wasn’t fast enough? What if the sorcerer had hurt Roman worse that Virgil could repair, just because he wasn’t there in time?

Lost in his own thoughts, Virgil almost missed the open door. But it was the hiss of pain that made his pause in his tracks and notice the candlelight flickering out from the cracked open door. The warlock didn’t even hesitate; he threw the door open and burst into the room, the orb still floating around his hand. 

Roman was alone in the room, no sorcerer in sight. The prince was sitting on the floor, cradling his left arm, a sword abandoned next to him. Drops of blood dripped down from the blade, seeming into the stones, and staining the yellow magic that briefly appeared in Virgil’s vision (most likely a side effect of creating the orb; when he dismissed it a few moments later, the yellow faded with it) into an ugly shade of brown. A sack of hay that Virgil assumed was once a training dummy lay a bit away from the sword, slashed to bits, with the insides of it scattered across the ground. 

Roman looked up at him, his gorgeously sad eyes widening with surprise. “Virgil? What are you- it’s been five days- I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“Trust me, the five days wasn’t my choice.” Virgil stepped closer to the royal. “I heard you yelp in pain, and I see blood on your sword- are you alright?”

Roman let out a laugh that was painfully fake. “Oh, it’s nothing, my dark knight! Just a scratch from training.”

“If it’s just a scratch, you can let me see it.”

“Oh, that won’t be necessary, I’m a prince and a master swordsman! I’ve faced Dragon’s in battle, this is nothing!”

“Then let me see it.”

Roman looked up at Virgil, and for a moment, the sadness was gone, replaced with something blazing and bright that took Virgil’s breath away. Then, the fire was dampened and Roman meekly moved his left arm. Curses that made the prince wince fell from Virgil’s mouth as he stared at the wound.

“That, your highness,” The warlock seethed, “Is not a simple scratch.”

It truly wasn’t. The prince’s sword had torn the sleeve of his flowy white shirt, cutting into the skin below it. The wound stretched across his forearm and ended near the prince’s ring finger. 

“I’ve had worse.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean that you should have to bleed out,” Virgil muttered, reaching out towards the prince before quickly flinching back on instinct. “Um, I need something to clear the blood before I cast the spell.”

Roman stared down at the ripped fabric of his shirt. He shrugged, then ripped the torn sleeve, handed Virgil the slightly blood-stained fabric. 

“I wasn’t talking about ripping your shirt you know.”

“It’s not like anyone else is going to see me. Other than the sorcerer. I couldn’t care less about what he thinks about me.” Roman said, waving around the fabric. Virgil snatched it away from him and began to wipe the blood off his forearm. 

“Oh, you don’t care about what I think about you?”

Roman didn’t look Virgil in the eyes, focusing on the warlock's hand instead. “Well, you probably already think poorly of me already, getting my own kingdom cursed and all. I don’t think I can sully your opinion any more than it already has been sullied.”

“Hey, your highness?” Roman still wouldn’t look up “Don’t put words in my mouth. I might think you’re reckless and lacking some common sense, but I don’t hate you.”

The prince finally looked up. “Really?”

“Yes, really. That might change, however,if I don’t treat this wound soon. So, sit still.”

Roman obeyed, sitting as still as a statue while Virgil cleaned the cut. The warlock sighed, staring the blood staining rag in his hands. “You’re lucky. If you were just a little bit steadier with that blade, you would have chopped your ring finger right off.”

The prince scoffed. “If I don’t have a ring finger, the sorcerer can’t put a ring on it, and therefore, I cannot get married to him. All my problems solved!”

“Remember when I said you lacked common sense?”

As the prince let out some sort of offended, squeaking noise, Virgil ran his finger along his wound. “Sona.”

Purple began to glow around his hand. Roman quieted, staring as the magic as it began to sew up his wound. Virgil snorted at his amazement, tracing the cut up to the prince’s finger, healing him much more carefully than the way he’d healed himself earlier. This magic followed close behind, closing Roman’s cut, leaving behind only a pale pink scar.

Virgil stared at the scar, wrinkling his nose. “That shouldn’t be there.”

“What do you mean? Whenever the healer at the castle healed me up, there was always a scar.”

“Yeah, maybe, but my magical focus is healing. And protection, but my mum is a renowned healer and she taught me. I don’t leave scars.”

Virgil glared at the scar, and suddenly, it turned from pale pink to a sickly yellow. Virgil flinched backward and blinked furiously. When he opened his eyes again, the yellow had faded again. “That explains it.”

“Huh?”

“Oh, nothing.” Virgil looked up at the prince, determined to ignore the healed wound. “Patton says hello, by the way.”

“Of course he does.” The prince's smile was brittle.”He could never be mad at me for long. Even when I deserve it.”

“Neither of them are mad.”

“Logan’s not mad? Yeah, I’ll believe that one when the sun dies.”

“Not mad, but I have a feeling you’ll be getting an ‘I told you so’ speech.”

“Actually, I retract my previous statement, I can believe that without a doubt.”

The two settled into silence for a few moments, before Virgil broke it. “So, how did a ‘master swordsman’ give himself such a sloppy wound?”

Roman froze, eyes wide and shoulders tense. For a second, Virgil tensed too. Then, the prince sighed, tension draining from his body. “I got frustrated, and stopped paying attention while using the training dummy.”

Virgil remained silent, waiting for the prince to explain. Roman looked over at his sword, before reaching over and studying himself in the blade’s reflection. “I can’t do anything.”

“What?”

“I can’t stop the sorcerer. I can’t fight him. I can’t find a way to save my people without giving the sorcerer what he wants. I can’t stop the heartache I feel every time I see him! I can’t do anything except wallow in this castle like some sort of damsel in distress! I’m supposed to be the one helping damsels in distress, not becoming one! I’m a horrible prince- how am I supposed to rule a kingdom if I can’t overcome this!’

Then, Roman threw down his sword and started to cry. Virgil stood there, uncomfortable and not knowing what to do. He was not used to other people crying- he was the one usually crying, with his mother calming him down-

Wait. What would his mother do? 

Virgil took a breath and summoned every ounce of Cecilie Serein’s blood in him to work its magic. He carefully moved forward, slowly wrapping his arms around the prince.”You’re not a horrible prince.”

Roman looked at him, the red ringing his eyes in perfect contrast with his green eyes. “What?”

“If you were a horrible prince,” Virgil continued, mirroring the soft voice his mother used when he was panicking, “You won’t be this worked up about all this, would you?”

“But I’m not doing anything about it.I’m letting my people stay cursed!”

“You’re resisting the sorcerer. You’re saving them from whatever reason he wants the throne.” Suddenly, all the stories from Logan and Patton about Roman came to mind, about how social the prince was and how he much preferred the presence of people. “You’re resisting the sorcerer, no matter the strain. No matter how lonely and draining it is in his castle. 

Roman sniffed, getting some of his tears into Virgil’s cloak. “You mean it?”

“I am. All honesty from me, I promise.”

Roman was silent for a minute, then suddenly buried his head into Virgil’s shoulder. . The warlock couldn’t find it in himself to be annoyed, instead, he tightened his grip on the prince. “Thank you.”

The two stayed, Virgil grounding Roman until the prince's tears dried and his eyes didn’t look so sore. Then, Virgil spoke. “I'm not just saving your kingdom.”

Roman pulled away, staring at Virgil with confusion. “What.. what are you talking about.”

“I’m not just saving your kingdom.” Virgil repeated, his voice soft all on its own, not mimicking his mother anymore, “It's not just your kingdom any more. I’m saving you too.”


End file.
